


(Don't) say anything

by SmilinStar



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 05:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2495801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmilinStar/pseuds/SmilinStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She makes a liar out of him when he walks away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Don't) say anything

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhhh season 6 is giving me all the angsty feels and I love it! This starts off from 6x03 and then just went where my Steroline muse took me. Hope you enjoy it.

 

 

\-----

 

 

She's made a liar out of him.

 

Just another to add to his multitude of sins. In the grand scheme of things its not the worst of his vices.

 

Blood thirsty serial killer may just outrank them all.

 

But in that moment, he swears he's never hated himself more.

 

_If even just a small little part of you came back to check on me, then_

 

And in his head he screams for her to not finish it, just don't, don't say it.

 

But she does. With the slightest tremor in her voice, the flutter of her lashes as she looks up at him with her heart unabashedly splayed open, pleading with the barest hint of hope, because she wouldn't be Caroline Forbes without it, she finishes it.

 

_Stay_

 

She makes a liar out of him when he walks away.

 

He thinks its his penance that he can still hear her tears.

 

 

\-----

 

 

She thinks she should have learnt by now.

 

They all walk away in the end.

 

She's Caroline Forbes, and no one ever stays for her.

 

She should stop asking them to.

 

She should stop wanting things she knows she's never going to have.

 

And god, he'd told her as much once, hadn't he?

 

_Caroline. You and me. It's not gonna happen._

And yet for a moment there, she'd actually believed it could, that she was _enough._

And so when Elena asks that one question she'd been denying and hiding from, that one question she can no longer outrun, she answers it with a half truth.

 

After all, she argues, “did” and “do”, there's nothing really between the two.

 

And if there's anyone who through sheer force of will can turn a “do” into a “did”, it's her.

 

 

\-----

 

He spends an entire afternoon with her, and it's surprisingly easy.

 

Although the laughs feel a little awkward falling from his lips, and her smiles are wide but empty and wrong, he finds he doesn't mind her company so much.

 

It finally hits him after his third drink and as Elena sinks the last ball into the top left corner of the pool table and does a little victory dance with a self-satisfied beam on her face.

 

It's so surprisingly easy, so comfortable, because _it's gone._

He's shaken her off entirely.

 

Yes, she'll always hold a special place in his heart, and she'll never not mean something to him, but he's not in any danger of falling back under her spell.

 

He's shaken her off, but the pangs of regret in his chest have nothing to do with her, and have everything to do with bright blonde hair, braided into an elegant up-do, shimmering cream in sequins and beads and the prettiest of smiles spinning back into his arms.

 

His face must be an open book, as Elena asks, nothing but guile twisting her lips into a knowing smile, “So Stefan, why is it you can hardly stand one second in a room with Caroline, but you can bear to hang out with me? How exactly is that moving on?”

 

Of course, she doesn't really ask that at all.

 

But it's what he hears.

 

And what he chooses to ignore for as long as the world will let him.

 

 

\-----

 

 

“You did _what_?”

 

She thinks she may have shrieked that last word, a high-pitched screech like a freakin' banshee, but she really doesn't care.

 

Because she's angry.

 

She's practically vibrating with it. That, and pure disbelief. Though, in all honesty, it should not have come as a surprise.

 

Because this Stefan?

 

She doesn't recognise him at all.

 

She stares up at him. His expressionless face and dull green eyes, that she used to be able to read so well once upon a time, refuse to look down at her.

 

“How could you do it?” she asks, her voice back down to acceptable decibels for human or even vampire hearing, and remarkably steady given the weight of the words.

 

“I know what he did to Ivy was wrong, and I know sometimes he causes more trouble than he's worth. But more importantly, I know that he reminds you of Damon, and you're hell bent on moving forwards, but isn't that all this comes down to? Damon?”

 

His eyes finally snap to hers, and she can see the anger swirling in their depth, but still she plunges ahead and twists the stake, “He'd be so disappointed in you Stefan, and I'm not sure he'd be able to forgive you if anything happens to Enzo.”

 

 _I'm not sure I could either_ , she thinks, but says nothing.

 

For a moment, it looks like she may have got through to him. The haze clears, and maybe it's just wishful thinking but there's a glimpse of guilt in his eyes and in the clench of his jaw.

 

But yet again she's proven a fool when he glares down at her and there's nothing but ice cold steel in his voice as he says, “Damon's dead, can't really do much of anything, let alone forgive, now can he?”

 

Shaking her head, she jabs her finger hard into his chest, “You're fixing this Stefan Salvatore, and then you can climb back under whatever lonely, self-pitying rock you came out from, I don't care. Understood?”

 

She jabs him one last time before turning on the spot to help Matt finish loading the truck with supplies.

 

There's no reason to believe he'll listen. She doesn't think for one second he'll help her, after all, he's moved on, and she means nothing to him. He's made that much abundantly clear, and she's learning to swallow the disappointment.

 

So when he opens the door and slides into the back seat, she's resolute in her decision to think nothing of it.

 

And hope? The poor sucker doesn't even get a second thought.

 

 

\-----

 

 

He's a mess when they find him. Barely conscious, half rotting away, half flayed alive.

 

And yet he still manages to open those damned eyes and curve his lips into a miserable smirk and cough out a “Hello gorgeous.”

 

He finds himself watching the scene play out in front of him, and he can't look away.

 

Caroline crouches by his side, one hand cupping his face, running a thumb across his cheek. A small laugh falls from her lips, though it sounds rather more like a sob, and it's enough to turn his insides.

 

The expression on her face feels suspiciously like a splinter slowly forcing its way under his skin and he thinks it might be guilt.

 

But then she's falling into the other man's arms, hugging him tight and he can't watch any more.

 

Enzo only spots him once she's buried her head in his neck and he looks up over her shoulder at him standing there looking for all the world like he wanted to be anywhere else but here. He expects anger and hatred once recognition hits, but what he gets is a lot worse.

 

A wink and a smug smile and arms wrapping around the blonde a little tighter.

 

It leaves his insides afire and yet he's still not ready to acknowledge why.

 

 

\-----

 

 

“Stop it.”

 

“Stop what?”

 

“You know what?” she huffs as she folds another of her tops away into the middle drawer.

 

“No I really don't.”

 

She can literally see Elena sat there on her bed, legs folded beneath her, the very picture of innocence with her big doe eyes and it's all one big fat lie because she knows exactly what it is she's doing.

 

Spinning around, she thinks score one for me, as reality lines up exactly as she thought it would.

 

She folds her arms across her chest and stares down at her one remaining best friend.

 

Elena sighs, and gives up with a “Fine. Are you going to talk about it or am I really going to have to ply you with alcohol to get the truth out?”

 

“Truth about what?” she asks, her turn now to play the innocent.

 

“Caroline.”

 

“Fine,” she snaps, before sinking down on to her twin bed to face her, “There is nothing going on between me and Enzo.”

 

“Really? So that little display yesterday at the party?”

 

“Just a little fun.”

 

“At whose expense?”

 

Her eyes snap up to meet Elena's, but there's no judgement there, only concern, and it's enough to break down her defences. It never really takes much.

 

“Enzo is well aware I'm not looking for a relationship.”

 

“No offence, Caroline, I know you like him for whatever reason, but I really don't care much for him, but you? Stefan?”

 

“Stefan?” she laughs, “What has he got to do with any of it?”

 

“He was standing right there.”

 

“He was?”

 

A voice in her head, sing songs _liar, liar_ , and it doesn't help that it's written all over her face.

 

Elena says nothing in reply.

 

Nothing at all until she breathes out, “I don't care about him. He doesn't care about me. Why are we having this discussion?”

 

“You know that's not true, don't you?”

 

She looks down at her lap, bites down on her lower lip as for just one moment she lets the barriers vanish. When she looks back up at her friend, the wobbly smile on her face says it all, “I don't know anything any more.”

 

 

\-----

 

 

“You're an idiot,” Elena tells him.

 

“I know,” he says.

 

 

\-----

 

 

It's completely insane.

 

It makes no sense and considering the crazy they've seen, and the fact that they'd thought they'd seen it all, this is something else entirely.

 

It's impossible.

 

It's utterly impossible.

 

But, however it's happened. However they may have gotten here, not one of them really cares.

 

They're here. They're _alive._ And they have their _home_ back.

And it's just fountains of tears, happy, happy tears, and laughter and hugs and _love._

And though there's still heartbreak to come, because for now, Damon is still blissfully unaware, there's time. There's time to just soak in the impossible.

 

Her eyes meet his across the room as he clutches to his older brother in a hug that has Damon choking out in laughter, “Can't breathe, little brother,” which only makes him tighten his grip.

 

She can't help the grin on her face and when his eyes meet hers, she thinks she finally sees him now.

 

Damon and Bonnie aren't the only ones who were lost, now found.

 

 

\-----

 

 

The joy doesn't last long.

 

It never does.

 

Damon is angry, and grieving, and an angry Damon is a dangerous Damon.

 

He's angry at him, his own brother for giving up on him.

 

He's angry at Alaric, for betraying his very memory.

 

And yet again Stefan's left picking up the pieces. Literally.

 

Gathering piles of broken wood from the floor into his arms, he makes his way over shards of glass to the front door. It's wide open, and he stops still at the sight of Caroline Forbes standing in his door way.

 

“He knows,” she says as she takes in the collateral damage.

 

“Yeah, he does.”

 

Her hand reaches up to her temple and she runs it back through her hair.

 

If she notices the torn, blood-stained shreds of his t-shirt, she doesn't say anything.

 

A long time ago, she would have.

 

“I need to go back and find Elena, he's gonna try something stupid, and he already left her in tears and so confused. Ugh, what a mess!”

 

She says it all in one rush of a breath and says it to the wall. She hasn't looked at him once.

 

“Caroline,” he says, and it slips from his tongue as easily as it used to, the rest of his sentence just waiting, whatever it may be.

 

She whirls around to face him then, and there is a fire roaring to life in her eyes when she does.

 

“No.”

 

“No?” he asks.

 

“No,” she says again through gritted teeth, before turning around and leaving.

 

He's not really sure why he's left standing there with a smile on his face.

 

The old Caroline would have called him crazy.

 

She may have been right.

 

 

\-----

 

 

The phone bounces off the bed and lands on the floor. She's slightly shocked the screen hasn't cracked but she's in the middle of being a completely justified drama-queen to really care.

 

“Seriously?”

 

Bonnie doesn't say a word, just raises an eyebrow.

 

It's kind of eerie how much she and Damon have rubbed off on each other.

 

She stops pacing long enough to stand in the middle of their dorm room, hands on both hips, blowing a stray strand of hair away from her face, before letting out a muffled “Arghhh!” from behind her hands.

 

“Caroline.”

 

“He can't just expect me to pick right back up from where we left off and be best buddies again. It does not work like that!”

 

“Caroline . . .”

 

“No. No, no, no. He needs to stop calling me, and stop leaving all those freakin' messages about how much he _misses me,_ misses _us_! Us! Us? What us? There was never any us, and he went and ruined it anyway, what with his need to move on and marinate in his own misery, alone-

 

“Caroline-”

 

“Why is he doing this to me?”

 

It comes out on a broken sob, tears she had stowed away, determined not to shed any more, not over him.

 

Bonnie's up and in front of her, her arms coming up to hold her at the shoulders and she says voice low and soft, “The real question is why are you so upset?”

 

She doesn't let her answer, pulling her into a tight hug.

 

The answer will only make her cry harder.

 

 

\-----

 

“So you're a stalker now are you?”

 

“That's exactly what I am.”

 

He's been sitting on this same wooden bench every day for the past two weeks, and every day she's ignored him, strolling past without so much as a backward glance. Sometimes she's alone, other times she's flanked by Bonnie or Elena or both, and sometimes they look his way and send him an apologetic smile or shrug, but that's not what he's looking for.

 

He's not sitting here for the sympathy.

 

He deserves this.

 

He's been a complete ass.

 

No, he wasn't wrong in wanting to grieve or even wanting to move on, but he was wrong in how he'd treated her.

 

It took him climbing out of the haze of his grief to finally realise it.

 

So, this silent treatment, he completely deserves it. He literally asked for it.

 

And now, he's resigned himself to waiting for however long it takes Caroline to forgive him.

 

He's not really sure what's changed today and why she's finally approached him, but he'll take anything at this point.

 

She's dressed in a white summer dress and denim jacket even though it's well into the fall and he can't help but think the cute little frown on her face just completes the outfit.

 

She folds her arms across her chest and glares down at him, and he tries really hard not to crack a smile and blurt out an “I miss you.” He's left enough of those on her machine only to be answered with deafening silence.

 

“You're a dick too, don't forget that.”

 

“Nope, not forgotten, definitely a dick too.”

 

He thinks the twitch of her mouth may have just been the beginnings of a smile, and he knows he'd been right when instead she only frowns harder and snaps, “Don't do that.”

 

“Do what?” he asks, eyes wide feigning ignorance.

 

“You know exactly what!”

 

“No idea.”

 

“I am not talking to you.”

 

“Clearly.”

 

“You're an asshole.”

 

“We've established that already.”

 

“Ugh,” she says practically on a growl and it's all he can do from outright grinning at her, “I'm leaving.”

 

“Okay, I'll just be here tomorrow.”

 

She shakes her head at him, muttering “unbelievable” before stomping away, muttering a whole lot more under her breath, which only makes him smile wider.

 

 

\-----

 

 

“How much longer are you two going to keep doing this?” Elena asks a few days later.

 

“Eternity,” is her reply.

 

 

\-----

 

 

“Blondie?”

 

He doesn't look up from his book, just answers with a “Yep,” before turning the page.

 

“Huh.”

 

It's not until days later, he realises just what he'd admitted.

 

 

\-----

 

 

She knows this is a bad idea.

 

But she's the queen of bad ideas and bad decisions and she's tired of always trying to do the right thing.

 

This, she tells herself, is the last time.

 

And she's losing the battle to fight it anyway.

 

They can say what they like about him, but the man knows what to do with his lips as he trails kisses down the side of her neck and her head falls back against the tree on a sigh.

 

And so maybe she's dreaming of green eyes instead of brown, and maybe she ignores it because that doesn't have to mean anything.

 

She likes green.

 

It's a pretty colour.

 

Her favourite, in fact.

 

And who is she trying to fool she thinks with a groan.

 

Her eyes snap open, and all she can think is, of course.

 

Of course he just so happens to be standing there.

 

Enzo catches on fast, and stops to ask, “What's the matter gorgeous?”

 

He answers his own question when he turns around and says on a laugh, “Oh, hello Stefan.”

 

And she wishes the ground would open up then and swallow her whole. She wishes Enzo would stop smirking at him like the smug bastard he is. But most of all she wishes she knew just exactly why he looks so damn hurt, and why he even cares.

 

 

\-----

 

 

He doesn't visit her the next day.

 

Or the day after.

 

Or at all.

 

 

\-----

 

 

She barges through the front door and marches her way into the living room.

 

She wants to laugh at the sight of him.

 

Glass of bourbon in hand, face solemn and broody all lit up handsomely by firelight.

 

He just isn't fair.

 

She stops right in front of him and yells, “You don't get to be mad!”

 

He doesn't look up at her, just gently places the glass back down on to the table beside him and answers her softly, “I'm not mad.”

 

She scoffs, “Yeah, right. If you're not mad, then what is this?”

 

“This,” he says after a moment, “isn't anything.”

 

And the words sound heavy and she feels it like lead in the bottom of her stomach.

 

He looks up at her then, and she thinks this would be the moment.

 

If her heart wasn't dead muscle caged behind bone, this would have been the moment it stopped.

 

“Caroline,” he says on a whisper.

 

And it's instinct that has her shutting it down, “No.”

 

He smiles, and its sad.

 

And in her head she's cursing him and his sad, sad eyes that have no right. No right to do this to her.

 

He stands up and she's forgotten how tall he is.

 

“No?” he asks, as he steps forwards.

 

“No,” she says again, firmer this time, before spinning on the spot and rushing to the door.

 

Except he's faster than her, always has been and he's standing right there. Right in front of her again and she has to take a step back to stop herself from colliding.

 

“Why did you come here Caroline?”

 

She's breaking all over again, and she swore she never would, “I don't know.”

 

“Caroline,” he says again, and this time she lets him finish it,

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

She takes in a deep shuddering breath and nods, “I know.”

 

And then she leaves.

 

And he lets her.

 

 

\-----

 

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey.”

 

If this were a cartoon, he's pretty sure there would be crickets chirping in the background or some other comical music to highlight the utter awkwardness.

 

It doesn't help matters much either when he opens his mouth and says, “It's nice and sunny today.”

 

Mortified. He's mortified. And he doesn't think he's ever been mortified in the past hundred and fifty years of his existence.

 

And why, why is this so weird?

 

It's Caroline Forbes.

 

His best friend.

 

But then she starts rambling about how she's glad it hasn't been raining as it would ruin her new suede boots, and isn't it weird how they're vampires and still love the sun, because isn't it a bit like cute baby gazelles wanting to be friends with lions, and there must be some sort of vampire law that decrees it an abomination, and then she just sort of stops. And laughs.

 

And if he hadn't already been in love with her, he's sure that laugh right there would have done the trick.

 

 

\-----

 

 

“Hair up or hair down?”

 

There are better people to ask, people who know a little bit more about hair and make up. Those people however, namely Elena and Bonnie, have gone and left her. Apparently something about a last minute assignment, which pfft, _as if._

 

She thinks they've done this on purpose.

 

Several pleas of _just tell him!_ and _god, when are you guys gonna get your act together?!_ have fallen on deaf ears.

 

And so maybe they're forcing her hand a little and she's forcing his, but its gone on for weeks now, and she's actually losing her mind.

 

He's sitting on the sofa, entirely engrossed in his book, and doesn't look up until she speaks.

 

His reaction is everything she's been hoping for.

 

He stares at her, and she thinks she sees the subtle bob of his Adam's apple as he inaudibly gulps. He shuts his book with a thump and doesn't look away.

 

“Where are you off to?”

 

She gives him a non-committal shrug, “One of the guys from my class invited me to a party he's throwing, I thought I might go check it out.”

 

“Right.”

 

“So,” she says brightly, “Hair like this? Or should I pin it up?” She holds her hair up and turns to the side to show him.

 

He seems to seriously ponder the question for a minute, before he abruptly stands up, and stalks his way over to her.

 

“I think,” he says slowly, before stopping in front of her, and she doesn't even realise she's holding her breath.

 

“Yes?” she asks on a whisper as he stands there, much too close, just staring down at her.

 

He lifts his hand and untangles her fingers from where she's holding her hair up. It falls back down around her, brushing her shoulders and she's not sure she could breathe now even if she had to as he runs his fingers through the strands and pulls gently on the curls.

 

“I think,” he repeats, and she can literally feel his breath on her face, “you should just give this party a miss altogether.”

 

She raises a brow, “And why would I do that?”

 

“Because, I have something far more interesting to show you.”

 

She doesn't argue, doesn't question.

 

Just trusts.

 

 

\-----

 

 

It's all he's been thinking about.

 

He's not sure when it really started, but he knows it's just got worse and worse the longer he's left it.

 

She follows along beside him, and somewhere along the way he finds her hand in his, or his in hers,  he doesn't know and it doesn't matter.

 

She's uncharacteristically quiet and doesn't say anything at all, not until he finally gets to where it is he's going and comes to a complete stop.

 

“Uhh?” she tilts her head to the side and laughs, their hands still entwined by his side, “This is what you wanted to show me?”

 

“Yep.”

 

“The middle of the woods in the middle of nowhere?”

 

“Not nowhere.”

 

“O-kaaay.”

 

“You don't remember?”

 

She moves to shake her head, but then he sees it, the recognition and understanding dawning and her face completely changes and it's even more beautiful.

 

“Really?” she whispers.

 

He thinks its apt he brought her here. The place where it all started, where he'd been completely naïve about the path his life should and would take, and where he'd been too blind to see it.

 

_Caroline. You and me. It's not gonna happen._

He lifts his free hand and cups her face, thumb brushing over her cheek, “I was wrong.”

 

And he hopes she understands it in all the ways he means it.

 

From the flutter of her eyelids as she closes her eyes, and the tears that spill out from under her lashes, and the bright, bright eyes that stare back at him when she re-opens them, he knows that she has.

 

He kisses her then.

 

And when she mutters “finally” against his lips, he can't help but agree.

 

 

\-----

 

 

One day she just outright asks him.

 

They're having a lazy day and she's propped herself up on his chest as he lies there on the bed reading, and she just asks.

 

“When?”

 

He looks down at her and she knows he knows what it is she's asking.

 

“When what?”

 

She pokes him, and he chuckles, grabbing hold of her hand and tugging her closer.

 

He smooths back her hair, and breathes into her skin,

 

“Just when you said I would.”

 

 

\----

 

 

_I think that someday, you'll meet someone new, and you'll fall madly in love, and you'll have moved on without even realising it._

 

 

 

**End.**

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
